


Glass Houses, Sharp Words

by servantofclio



Series: Aderyn Hawke [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, references to Hawke/Fenris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 05:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5772838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is it true,” Carver snarled, “that you dallied with my sister and then walked out on her?” </p><p>Carver has a bone to pick with Fenris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glass Houses, Sharp Words

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by some comments that rannadylin left on a previous fic in this series.

“You! I have a bone to pick with you.” 

Fenris was unaccustomed to being addressed on the street. It took him a moment to realize the shout was directed at him, until he spotted the big man bearing down in his direction. 

“Carver,” he said neutrally. 

“You,” Carver growled, in barely suppressed fury. “Is it true, what you did?” 

With a sinking feeling, Fenris knew exactly what Carver must be talking about. The red band he wore on his wrist seemed to burn. It seemed wiser, though, to pretend otherwise. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.” 

“Is it _true_ ,” Carver snarled, “that you dallied with my sister and then walked _out_ on her?” 

Distantly, Fenris was aware that a space had cleared around them in the street. One part of his mind was calculating what he might do if Carver swung, or drew on him. The rest of him smoldered with shame and resentment. How could he possibly explain how precious that night had been, how much he treasured Hawke, or how impossible it had been to stay? She deserved better — he knew that as truly as he knew anything — but the overwhelming weight of memory had been too much to bear. 

And he could never explain to Carver, of all people. 

Instead he said, “What happened between Hawke and me is no affair of yours.” 

“She’s my sister, I should bloody well say it is!” 

Fenris’ lip curled. “Now you have family feeling, I see. You didn’t seem to feel such when you took up your current order.” 

Carver bared his teeth. “And that’s none of _your_ affair.” 

It was foolish to goad any opponent, Fenris knew that well, but his blood was surging and he could hardly stop himself. Did not wish to, in truth. “I see, so you are the only one entitled to walk away, then?” 

Carver snarled and swung. It was easy to see the fist coming. Fenris ducked, countered with a blow to the larger man’s gut. Carver was faster on his feet than he looked, making it a glancing hit to the side rather than the solid one Fenris had intended. And then Fenris had to dodge another jab from Carver, only to be caught with a blow to the mouth, and then... 

“All right now, break it up!” 

... and then the city guard arrived. 

Fenris grimaced, wiping blood away from his lip, and allowed Donnic and Brennan to get in between them. He was abruptly even more ashamed of himself for brawling in the street like a common thug. That wasn’t what he was meant for. 

“What on earth is happening here?” Donnic demanded, looking severe. 

Fenris cast a sideways glance at Carver and found him glowering back, clutching his side. Carver chewed on his lip, avoiding Donnic’s glare. 

Brennan nudged Donnic with her elbow and murmured something in his ear. Donnic pulled a sour face. “Guard-Captain’s going to want to deal with this,” he decided finally. 

Well. That was simply perfect, wasn’t it. 

Aveline, arms folded, stared at the pair of them as if they were errant recruits. Carver wilted under the attention, shoulders hunching. Fenris merely rubbed his foot against the rug in Aveline’s office. 

“What have you two done now?” Aveline finally demanded. 

“He accosted me on the street,” Fenris said after a moment, when it became evident that Carver did not intend to speak. 

“Is that true?” Aveline asked of Carver. 

“Don’t you know what _he_ did?” Carver demanded. “He has no right to wear _that_.” 

Fenris crossed his own arms, attempting to hide the telltale crest and band. From the direction of Aveline’s eyes, he did not succeed. “Hawke has not forbade me to wear it,” he muttered, aware that he sounded as sullen as a child. 

“How dare you claim that allegiance when you’ve _used_ —” 

“Stop,” said Aveline, and Carver halted, though the grinding of his teeth was near audible. “So you did approach him on the street.” 

“Yes,” Carver said grudgingly. 

“Do you want me to summon the Knight-Captain? Or the Knight-Commander? I doubt either one would approve of templars brawling in the streets.” 

Carver’s nostrils flared, but he straightened his shoulders and said, “No.” 

Aveline nodded. “And I’m sure Hawke didn’t ask you to be her champion.” 

“She’s my _sister_ , she’s didn’t have to.” 

Aveline gave Carver a look that seemed to quell him. “Merrill told me what happened,” he admitted. “And Bela.”

Fenris gritted his teeth. He could only imagine what those two intolerable gossips were saying about him. “Nobody knows what happened,” he muttered under his breath. 

“They know enough!” Carver returned. “They know you spent the night and walked out, and she’s been...” 

“Enough,” Aveline said. 

Fenris wished that she had let Carver say one more word. Hawke had been what, exactly? To him, she had been calm, polite. Distant, which was no more than he deserved. He had kept his own distance, not wishing to impose his doubtless unwanted company. 

Aveline gave him a long, measuring look. A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he held her gaze. “And I expect better of you,” she said. 

Fenris blinked at her muted tone. What did she mean? She expected better of him than responding to Carver’s gibes? Or she expected better of him than how he’d treated Hawke? 

His cheeks heated, and his eyes dropped to the floor. 

Aveline looked from one to the other, and asked sternly, “And do you think Hawke would be happy to see either of you like this?” 

Fenris’ eyes shot up to meet hers. He shuddered at the thought of the disappointment on Hawke’s face. At his side, Carver also flinched. 

Aveline nodded. “That’s what I thought. Get out of here, don’t let it happen again, and she doesn’t need to know about this.” 

Fenris scowled. When he glanced to the side, he saw Carver with a nearly identical expression. Carver glared at Fenris, flinched under Aveline’s hard look, and spit out, “Fine. But you —” he said to Fenris “— had better not hurt her again.” 

Fenris said nothing to that. There was justice in Carver’s demand, after all. 

Carver stared at Fenris for a long moment more before turning on his heel and marching out of Aveline’s office. Fenris waited before turning to follow. 

“Fenris.” 

He stared back over his shoulder at Aveline, who opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, and then shook her head. “Go on. Just don’t do it again.” 

Again he wondered at her precise meaning. 

Then again, perhaps it was better not to know if she shared Carver’s opinion of him. 

He nodded, and left Aveline’s office with as much haste as dignity allowed.


End file.
